Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Darwiniana: Wall Edition

I write a long post because I don't have time to write a short post.

Why no posts, Darwins? Because I am holding up the local theater scene while Darwin builds a wall. These are two mostly unrelated jobs, and the wall is not directed at me, nor at immigrants from the nation to the south (from which Darwin bears half his genetic heritage, so just laugh because it's a joke, okay), but at the slope in the front yard which just makes no sense, landscapingwise.

The wall begins to emerge from the primordial lawn, bringing order to chaos.

Young Jack inspects the progress. Our mums wilt peacefully in the background.

Yesterday morning the kids and I took our turns in the manual labor department. Our goal was to level the terrace before the rain started. We packed the trench behind the wall with fill and wood chips left from when the trees were taken down (a sad necessity undertaken to preserve neighborly relations by protecting the neighborly roof from falling branches). We tamped and pick-axed and shoveled, and when the rain started, I stayed out with two helpers to rake the bed as level as possible. I was in the flow. I kept working despite the children who came out every 15 seconds to inform me that the baby was hungry, Mom, and can't you hear your son crying, Mom? and the baby needs you, Mooooom. This is how it is. You're actually doing a good, necessary thing, and you're doing it well, but humans take priority. Our shoes were too muddy to bring into the house, so there's quite a pile of footwear on the back porch.

Not quite finished, but not too shabby either. The last course of stone needs to be laid, the top bed and lawn both need to be tilled, and the grass seed and bulbs planted. Next spring we'll plant some decorative trees to replace the one lost when the trunk of the tree being removed fell and crushed it. And Darwin has drawn up a color-coded map to show where all the bulbs should be planted, so that we'll never have to worry again about spring planting. One and done -- that's my kind of gardening project.

***

But MrsDarwin, you say! Aren't you and Darwin supposed to be writing a series about NFP? Why are you wasting your precious writing time telling us about your wall, or your play, or your family? Because, my friends, that writing requires thought and concentration, and this writing does not. And anyway, I'm don't have to think about NFP at this moment because a) baby is only three months old, and even I have nursing infertility at three months, and b) because we're currently using the most effective form of conception avoidance possible: being in different states. Darwin is off at his yearly pricing conference right now, and I am holding down the fort for a week. The good news: it's not tech week yet, and our Wednesday and Thursday rehearsals were canceled due to school kids needing to school. The bad news, perhaps: I have to take all seven kids to rehearsal tonight, because two of them are in the show (and baby always comes), and although my 11yo is a fine upstanding girl, I'm not sure about leaving her in charge of three younger siblings until 9:30. This should go well, I hope, if only my 3yo will sit and watch the show and not run bellowing around the space. St. Genesius, pray for us.

Conference week is always interesting around here. Usually the first day goes efficiently, the second day less so, and then it all falls apart and the house gradually disintegrates until Darwin comes back. I don't function well without Darwin. I'm kind of a hot mess as a single mother, and I pray that God preserves me from this state as a permanent necessity. In fact, I pray that Darwin and I will just turn into trees at the same moment and be preserved forever in a loving embrace. Then our children can build the walls and try to get workmen out to fix the wood trim and repair the garbage disposal and patch the plaster and inspect the furnace. Or they could just sell the house, hopefully at a profit since our fine wall will raise the value so much. Houses, bodies, children -- so much maintenance, so little time.

Contributors

Reading

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